


Traced our hands through centuries

by snowshus



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Time Travel, life after death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21879283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/pseuds/snowshus
Summary: For Len time moves more like a riddle, it twists on itself around him and through him. The past becomes the future, the present circles round itself and forgets which way to go.
Relationships: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27
Collections: Coldwave Winter Holiday Exchange 2019





	Traced our hands through centuries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laCommunarde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laCommunarde/gifts).



In Mick's timeline. A nice linear timeline in which he is always only getting older, Len first shows up in his bed. He is cold, he was always cold. His toes like ice and his fingers are not much better. 

"You're not real," Mick insists, his hands grabbing at Len's arms, holding the cold appendage. It’s solid, his fingers press into the yielding flesh but don’t pass through. They burn from cold where they touch the strip of exposed skin at Len’s wrist but he doesn’t let go. He can’t. The pain is the only proof he has that Len is not just another hallucination, a dream that will disappear in the morning. Len’s skin glows a low unearthly green that swirls around like whirlpools under the depression caused by Mick's hands. 

"Does this feel fake to you," Len smirks and leans in to bite at Mick's lip.

Mick doesn't care anymore if it's real. It's Len. His fingers slide under the soft shirt and up Len's cold back. He missed this. He's missed Len. It doesn't matter if this is real, because right now, real is pretty much shit. 

Len laughs and it’s soft and light and open in a way it hasn’t been in ages, since they were teenagers. 

“Slow down there, Cowboy” he says but helps Mick pull his shirt off so they’re pressed together, skin to cold swirling green skin. 

“You’re here, you’re back,” Mick repeats against the side of Len’s neck, his shoulder, the palm of his hand, the inside of his wrist, everywhere. “You’re back, you’re back.”

“I must be early,” Len says, which doesn’t make much sense but his smile has softened and he gently brushes his thumb over Mick’s cheek leaving a wet trail behind. “I’m here, I’m back. I’ll be here forever. No matter when you are, I’m always going to find you. You’re the star guiding me.” The kiss this time is sincere, deep and long and Len disappears in the middle of it.

For Len time moves more like a riddle, it twists on itself around him and through him. The past becomes the future, the present circles round itself and forgets which way to go. 

There’s a break, a wave that rocks through all of time and knocks something loose and Len is Len again. He forms in Central City when the earth is crumbling and the sun is a huge red ball growing ever bigger. 

Mick slaps him on the back and says "There you are, wondering where you'd gotten off to." 

He is old. His hair, what's left, is white and the wrinkles around his eyes and lining his face are much deeper than they were last time Len saw him. 

"I-" Len starts to say but the world starts slipping before he finishes. 

"Aw, Lenny don't be that way. I was kidding." Mick is saying but the sound gets farther and farther away and Len is gone, his essence joins the swirling spiral of eternity.

The second time Mick sees Len he is awake, and not even drunk yet. Suddenly Len is there. He looks different, older but only by about a decade or two. Mick doesn't care, he grabs him and pushes him against the wall and kisses him like he never did enough before. Len’s lips are so cold and vaguely purple, they burn when Mick touches them. 

"Hey there, big guy, what's got you in such a mood?" Len grins between kisses. 

Mick doesn't answer, fuck words, they never were good enough anyways. He just touches Len's face, traces the greenish spirals on the cold skin. 

"You're alive."

"Oh, is this the first time?" Len asks, then leans up and kisses Mick softly. "Yes I'm alive. In a manner of speaking." 

"In a manner...?"

"I'm going to have to go again, there's an urgent crisis in 3089 that needs my particular skill set. I didn't mean to come here, sometimes I go to wrong you. Don't worry though. I'll be back, I promise. I wouldn't miss our 50th anniversary."

"It's only our 30th." 

"On your end maybe." Len grins and disappears.

The next time Len pulls all the pieces of himself back together, gathers himself out of the timestream, and makes himself into something resembling a person he is on Mick's farm, the one his parents had owned before they died. The house is still up so whenever he is it's before the fire. There's a boy, about six maybe, crying in the barn. Len can just make out his hunched over form in the shadows. It is in all likelihood Mick and Len should go. He is not supposed to mess with time, with what is in many ways his own timeline, if indirectly. He never could stand to hear kids crying. 

"Hey, are you okay?"

The boy doesn't answer, just pulls himself into the corner tighter.

"My name's Le-s, how about you?" Len says, remembering enough not to use his real name.

"Not supposed to talk to Strangers."

"Okay, you don't have to talk." Len says moving slowly into the barn. "Just nod or shake your head, okay?"

The boy hesitates and then nods. 

"Are you hurt?"

The boy shakes his head.

"Can I come closer."

The boy nods.

"Can I see your face?"

The boy nods and Len leans closer to examine the darkening bruise on the side of the boys face. 

"Not hurt, huh?"

The boy shakes his head. "I can handle it."

"I know you can. You're tough, toughest guy I know. You should put some ice on it though."

"Don't want to go inside, why's your skin like that?"

"Like what?"

"All swirly." 

Len looks down at his hands and sees the way the it’s glowing a greeny-blue that swirls around like a hundred little spirals all over him.

"Mister?" the boy is asking but he sounds far away and Len slipping back into the time stream. He manages to hold onto himself this time. He pulls himself back together and stands, if one could stand, in the middle of the whirl of time and it spins in an ever tightening spiral. It's terrifying to behold. It is something no man was ever meant to look on. It's Len's to use, he just has to figure out how. 

He finds Mick. He finds a lot of Micks across a lot of times, Micks that branch out into their own pocket universes, new timelines that form and collapse around him. He grabs the one he wants, a ship that look familiar and a Mick who looks close to the one Len last saw at the Vanishing Point, and wills himself to be.

"I found you," Len says when he reappears on the ship, his voice echos oddly and his skin swirls the same way the time stream does.

"Your back," Mick breathes in relief.

"I'm back." Len falls into Mick's arms and they're kissing. They have been together so long, but kissing Mick still feels like tasting the sun, like coming alive for the first time. He's always made Len feel that way.

Something shifts in Len, something spins and he is back in Juvie, in his old body, only half grown and awkward. He's kissing Mick for the first time in the dark of their cell. It's terrible, neither of them nearly as experienced as they'd claimed to be. They're teeth are bumping and Len's nose will keep hitting Mick's. He remembers it, remembers just how bad of kissers they'd been and how it was still the best fucking feeling in the world. He shifts slightly, lines them up better before he twists again and he's back in his own Mick's arms. 

"You disappeared." Mick murmurs into his neck where he's pressing small kisses. 

"How long?"

"Just a second." 

"You drive me to distraction," Len smirks. "It's hard to keep myself in place."

"I can stop."

"No, no I've been missing this too long," Len bites his lip. 

"Good, I really didn't want to stop." Mick picks him up and Len wraps his legs around Mick's thick waist as they careen towards Mick's room. Mick drops Len on the bed and as he hits he twists. Mick hand tangles with his and it is wrinkled and stiff, marked with scars that haven't been made yet. Then he is back with his Mick, hands tangling together on the bunk in the Wave-rider.

They move together, undressing and touching and breathing and bending with the same effortless synchronicity they've had for decades, as though they had never been separated. Len flickers through time as they move together. To Mick, always to Mick. Through their youth and their old age, from their beginnings to their endings. But everywhere he goes he is with Mick. He shudders as a hundred versions of him throughout time come. 

"Where do you go?" Mick asks as they lay next to each other, the sweat drying on Mick’s skin except where they're still pressed together. It turns to frost there. 

"To you." Len says. "I'm always going to you. For the rest of our lives."

"I met a different you, once. He said he we were going to celebrate 50 years together."

"We will," Len says. "I'll always find my way back to you. No matter what happens."

Mick nods, “I’ll be waiting.” 


End file.
